


Kings Would Not Play At

by brevitas



Series: King Among Kings [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Medieval AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is starting to find he does not think Grantaire utterly unbearable anymore and Grantaire is confused by his attention.</p><p>Or, the aftermath of their faked consummation that proves to be awkward for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings Would Not Play At

When Enjolras wakes he's not alone in the bed. At first he mistakes his companion for Courfeyrac due to the curly dark hair but as he shrugs sleep off he becomes aware of a few differences, namely that this man is laying along the foot of the bed and on top of the covers. Courfeyrac is a notorious blanket hog; anybody who has ever had the misfortune to spend the night in a bed with him knows that.

He sits up slowly but the man does not stir, and tentatively Enjolras reaches out and brushes a few locks of hair off his face. He looks down at Grantaire, his face slack in sleep, and cannot help a momentary smile. Like this he's actually kind of cute, Enjolras realizes, curled up in a little ball like a stray puppy that's finally found somewhere warm to lay.

He jumps when someone clears their throat behind him and swiftly retracts his fingers, turning to see Jehan standing in the doorway. The servant is smiling rather broadly, wearing red flowers in his hair this morning and carrying a tray of food.

"Morning, Prince Enjolras," he greets, perfectly polite, and approaches the bed to offer up the platter with a flourish. "King Abelard instructed me to present you breakfast. He wished me to tell you that he wants the both of you to recover your strengths and join him for lunch."

"Yes," Enjolras says, plucking the tray from Jehan's hands. "I will tell Grantaire."

Jehan smiles again and looks at Grantaire. "He needs to be woken up," he says. Enjolras frowns down at the cheeses assembled on the plate in his lap.

"Are you certain?" He asks. "He seems very peaceful."

Jehan looks much too delighted to hear that and Enjolras regrets saying anything at all. "I will allow _you_ to wake him then," he says sweetly, walking backwards to the door. "Chief Guard Bahorel wishes to meet with him in half an hour, however, so soon would be best."

He's gone before Enjolras can call him back and the blonde prince sighs. He's never been very comfortable with servants but there is something about Jehan that makes him seem less like a butler and more like he's employed at a job he actually likes. Enjolras picks at a slice of apple and absentmindedly watches Grantaire while he thinks.

He notices Grantaire's eyelids begin fluttering a few minutes later and quickly focuses on the remainder of the apple, shredding the red skin deftly. Grantaire yawns and rolls onto his side then, seeing Enjolras is already up, quickly sits and gathers his wits about him.

"I'm sorry for getting in the bed with you," he says, rubbing a hand down his face. Enjolras finds the motion somewhat endearing, and Grantaire scrunches his brow as he pushes his curls obstinately off his forehead. "My leg started bothering me in the middle of the night and it occurred to me that if someone came in uninvited it would look better if we were at least in the same bed."

"Jehan brought breakfast," Enjolras says, holding out the plate. Grantaire grins and picks up a slice of cheese, humming as he pops it into his mouth. It's his favorite kind.

"I didn't do anything inappropriate though," he says through a full mouth. "I was a perfect gentleman."

Enjolras chuckles and for some reason believes him. Perhaps it is because he figures he would have come awake if Grantaire had tried anything but maybe it is because the prince is growing on him. Grantaire is proving his worth, and Enjolras is surprised to find he likes the man underneath the charming mask.

"Your Chief Guard requested your presence in twenty minutes," he says. He can tell from the way Grantaire grins that this Bahorel fellow is a close friend; no one looks that excited to see their personal guard if they do not like them.

Grantaire clambers rather gracelessly from bed, his leg stiff from sleep. He has to continuously flex it as he ambles to the armoire and Enjolras finds himelf admiring the line of Grantaire's back, the cuve of his hips that are softened under the thick fabric of his braies. He frowns (he does not usually pay so much attention to the body) and turns back to the apple just in time to narrowly escape Grantaire catching him looking.

"You're welcome to return to your room," he says, turning around and pulling on an undershirt. It's open at the throat which seems to be Grantaire's preference if his father isn't making him wear high-collared formal clothes, and looks like it's been washed enough times that it's nearly worn through. "Only tell anyone who asks that you had a wonderful night." He grins, his blue eyes sparking. "And preferably that I was an _amazing_ lover."

Enjolras laughs and pushes the blankets off his legs. "I'll be sure to do that," he replies, standing and stretching his arms over his head. He completely misses the way Grantaire stares at him as he leans forward onto his toes and half-closes his eyes, pulling his back straight until the little ache eases.

Grantaire has never seen him with his hair down and had not noticed it in bed. Enjolras has been meticulous in keeping it pinned up, the long curls wrapped in intricate designs that Grantaire never spent more a minute trying to puzzle out. He merely assumed it was of fashion in Aequus and that Enjolras preferred it up.

But this, this is breathtaking. His curls are tighter than Grantaire had imagined and spill over the swell of his shoulders, the tips tickling his waistline. It curls more at the bottom but when Enjolras turns to face him Grantaire sees his bangs are also tightly curled and frame his face in thick golden waves.

Grantaire snaps his mouth shut and finds it dry. He licks his lips, kneeling down to tie his boots in an effort to give himself something better to do than drool. He can imagine how soft Enjolras' hair must be, how it might feel to wrap a handful around his fingers and pull until all the curls straighten.

Enjolras apparently does not notice his newfound fascination with his hair. He gets dressed briskly and tells Grantaire what Jehan had said about making it to lunch. "Your father seems very preoccupied with presentations," he remarks. 'You'd best not be late."

Grantaire waves it off. Enjolras frowns but says nothing of it; he is Grantaire's father, after all, and Enjolras is sure Grantaire's had twenty plus years to figure out the best way to deal with him. "I'll see you at lunch then," Enjolras says as he pins his hair up. He does this without looking; the lovely length is diminished to a neat bun that sits at the nape of his neck within a minute. He leaves after that, stealing only a single backwards glance.

Feuilly is waiting outside Grantaire's door for him. He straightens when Enjolras comes out into the hall and looks utterly professional as he peels away from the guard he'd been talking to (Enjolras notes it's Bahorel, Grantaire's friend) and comes to his side. He resists the urge to ask any questions until they are in a long stretch of hallway that bears no other people.

"How did it go?" He asks, looking sidelong at his charge. Feuilly's let his beard grow and the dark red shadow makes his frown more pronounced. "Everything was alright?"

Enjolras chuckles. "Yes," he answers, smiling so Feuilly knows he's not lying. "Grantaire was completely respectful."

He remains silent on the topic until they reach his room. Feuilly opens the door for him and follows Enjolras in and Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who had been sitting together on the bed, hop to their feet.

"Are you hurt?" Combeferre asks worriedly, coming to his old friend. Courfeyrac is right on his heels, looking equally distressed.

Enjolras smiles and clasps their hands, hearing Feuilly lock the door behind them. "It's fine," he assures them, and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. "Nothing happened."

"Nothing?" Courfeyrac repeats, puzzled. He set his hands on his hips and asks, "What do you mean?"

"I mean Grantaire offered to tell his father that all went well and our marriage is consummated but we did not a thing." Enjolras smiles at the open bewilderment all three wear. "Honestly he only came to bed when his leg started hurting too much to bear the floor."

"Wow," Combeferre says, but he looks pleased. Enjolras knows that he was the first one to advocate that Grantaire was not as bad as he'd seemed. "I'm happy to hear that."

Enjolras nods. "I'll be attending lunch," he says, "And we'll see if Grantaire lives up to his promise." He does not say it aloud but he has no doubts that Grantaire will; it does not strike him as probable for the prince to turn them in to a father he clearly hates.

Eventually Enjolras calls for a bath and patiently answers all the questions his friends ask him. He finds it somewhat amusing how interested they are; all of them had pegged Grantaire as the persona he let the public see and had believed he would take full advantage of Enjolras being in his bed. They're suddenly curious to know more about this prince that had surpassed all their expectations.

The king takes his lunch at one so at noon Enjolras leaves to explore the castle. His friends keep him company though all of them act much more demure around the palace's staff.

Enjolras asks Feuilly where the guards practice and Feuilly leads them to the barracks. It is evident someone is training by the sounds of ringing swords and the grunts of exercising men and this is proved when the hallway spills into an open courtyard. Some guards are practicing there with various weapons, though everyone stops when they see Enjolras and his entourage.

"Prince Enjolras," the men say politely, all falling to one knee. Enjolras nods at them and wishes they hadn't bowed (he hates that). He glances up at the sound of someone grunting in effort and finds that one couple, sparring in the far corner, have not stopped. Enjolras looks curiously at the pair and a guard close to the two smacks the bigger in the leg. The man turns, sees Enjolras, and drops to his knee but his partner only wipes sweat off his brow and grins. Enjolras realizes it's Grantaire, streaked with sweat and dirt and looking happier than he's ever seen him.

"Fiance," he greets delightedly, sweeping through the courtyard. The men titter though it seems to be a sound made out of fondness; Enjolras thinks that while some of this group is loyal to their king there is a good portion here who prefers their prince. "I did not know you were going to come calling or I would have changed."

He reaches Enjolras and executes a sinuous bow. "Advisers Courfeyrac and Combeferre," he greets. "Guard Feuilly."

Enjolras smiles and nods at him so Grantaire can rise. His leg seems to be doing much better; stretched as it is the aching muscles do not bother him as badly as they had that morning. "Did you come to see the guards and compare their bodies to mine?" He teases, his blue eyes sparking. He wears a leather headband that keeps his hair back and makes the color his eyes the focus of his face.

Enjolras looks at him for a beat then, realizing he hasn't anwered yet, flushes. "I was only exploring," he answers. Grantaire seems confused by the blush (he had only been joking; he mistakes the embarrassment as being the product of his earlier comment and makes a note not to tease him again) and turns to the guards.

"Get back to work!" He barks and the men chuckle as they climb to the feet. "Bunch of heathens." Grantaire says with a grin.

Bahorel, the one he'd been boxing with, jogs over to them. He is as sweaty as Grantaire is and looks just as lively from their match. "Prince Enjolras," he greets, then turns to Grantaire. "Are we going to finish our match?"

Grantaire looks at Enjolras with a more placated smile. He doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, after all. He's suddenly glad he'd at least kept his shirt on (if a joke could make him blush like that who knew what else would cause him distress). "Would you like me to join you?" He asks politely.

"Lunch is in an hour," Enjolras says. He can see Courefyrac looking curiously at him; he too had noticed Enjolras' blush and knows that his prince simply does not color like that. He is the head of a revolution, after all; he'd certainly heard more lewd things than what Grantaire had just said and he hadn't blushed then. "You may finish sparring if you'd like and we can talk at lunch."

"As you wish," Grantaire says with another bow. He throws an arm around Bahorel's shoulders and grins, says as they're turning away, "Come on, Bahorel, let me prove to you once and for all which one of us is better."

They return to their corner, leaving the four of them unnoticed. The guards do not know Enjolras well enough to care about his presence and are engaged in fights with dull blades that, even lacking their edges, can still hurt.

Combeferre lowers his voice and asks quietly, "Are you alright?" and Enjolras turns promptly to Feuilly.

"Do you know where the gardens are?" He asks and Feuilly nods. "I'd like to see them next."

His friends trail after him, wondering what the hell is up with their prince and why he was looking at Grantaire the way he had been.

**Author's Note:**

> I was excited to update this one! :D sick!Lyssie kept me company and hurried me through lol c:
> 
> requested by three anons and californiajones
> 
> title comes from William Cowper's quote, "War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at."  
> I kinda just liked the idea of this whole thing being a game; Grantaire is at the point where he considers Enjolras a piece of art (beautiful, thought-provoking and absolutely illegal to touch) while Enjolras is beginning to find he likes the man underneath R's cool exterior
> 
> p.s. I may or may not have a thing for pining!Jolras


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